WHAT  GOOD  HOUSING  MEANS 


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JOHN  IHLDER 

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[Reprinted  from  American  Journal  of  Public  Health,  Vol.  4,  No.  1] 


WHAT  GOOD  HOUSING  MEANS. 


John  Ihlder, 

Field  Secretary , National  Housing  Association. 

Read  by  title,  before  the  General  Sessions,  American  Public  Health  Association,  Colorado  Springs, 

September,  1913. 

The  question  of  how  we,  individually  and  as  communities,  are  to  secure 
good  houses  has  recently  begun  to  attract  national  attention.  As  usual 
it  began  in  a negative  way  with  hot  debates  over  certain  details.  Also, 
as  was  natural,  it  began  with  a study  of  the  worst  phase  of  our  housing — 
the  piled-up  tenement  dwellings  of  our  largest  cities.  But  during  the  past 
three  years  the  growth  of  interest  in  housing  has  been  so  great  that  we  can 
now  cease  to  confine  our  attention  to  the  worst  housing  abuses  and  begin  to 
think  of  housing  in  a broader  way  as  it  concerns  us  all. 

The  rapid  change  in  our  point  of  view  is  evidenced  by  the  change  in 
housing  legislation.  Three  years  ago  such  legislation  dealt  almost  exclus- 
ively with  tenement  houses  or  multiple  dwellings.  In  some  cities,  as  in 
Boston,  a tenement  house  was  defined  as  one  that  contained  four  or  more 
families.  Consequently  only  a small  fraction  of  three-decker  Boston  was 
subject  to  regulation.  In  a larger  number  of  cities  the  tenement  house  was 
defined  as  one  that  contained  three  or  more  families.  This  was  the  New 
York  rule,  and  was  copied  by  many  other  cities.  In  New  York,  and  espec- 
ially on  Manhattan  Island,  the  great  barracks  dwelling  had  become  so  com- 
mon that  the  law  safeguarded  in  a measure  a very  considerable  proportion 
of  the  people.  But  even  in  New  York,  notably  in  Brooklyn  and  in  the 
outlying  districts,  there  were  large  areas  where  the  tenement  house  had 
not  yet  appeared  in  any  great  numbers  and  where,  consequently,  housing 
was  not  regulated  in  the  interest  of  the  tenant  or  of  the  community.  In 
the  smaller  cities  which  imitated  New  York’s  law  the  effect  was  scarcely 
noticeable. 

The  trouble  was  that  we  had  permitted  ourselves  to  believe  the  problem 
purely  a problem  of  the  tenements  of  the  poor,  that  the  need  was  ade- 
quately met  if  we  saw  to  it  that  the  barracks,  which  we  assumed  were  the 
only  dwellings  that  could  be  erected  for  the  urban  poor,  were  provided  with 
certain  minimums  of  light,  air,  water,  toilet  conveniences  and  safeguards 
against  fire.  Of  course  those  who  were  working  on  the  problem  knew  the 
falsity  of  this  belief.  When  they  came  to  impose  minimum  restrictions 
for  tenements  on  the  lower  East  Side  of  New  York  they  found  that  these 
minimums  were  greater  than  the  amounts  given  to  the  well-to-do  in  many 
expensive  apartment  houses.  -Fortunately  it  proved  impracticable  to 

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What  Good  Housing  Means 


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draw  a legal  distinction  between  the  tenement  house  and  the  apartment 
house,  so  those  of  us  who  live  in  New  York  are  sharing  in  the  benefits  of  the 
poor. 

But  for  all  this  the  idea  persisted  that  tenement  house  legislation  was  a 
boon  from  which  the  more  fortunate  members  of  the  community — those 
who  in  popular  phrase  are  “able  to  look  out  for  themselves” — and  the 
community  as  a whole  benefited  only  indirectly  if  at  all.  Consequently 
recent  laws,  like  that  applying  to  the  New  York  state  cities  of  the  second 
class,  mark  a tremendous  development  of  our  understanding.  This  law 
covers  not  only  multiple  dwellings  but  two  family  houses  and  private 
dwellings  as  well.  And  it  covers  not  only  buildings  in  which  families  are 
supposed  to  live  more  or  less  permanently,  but  also  lodging  houses,  hotels, 
and  other  temporary  shelters  for  the  detached.  This  law  will  protect  the 
merchant,  the  lawyer,  the  salaried  man,  even  the  city  sanitarian  and  the 
health  officer,  and  their  families,  against  the  development  of  evil  conditions 
from  which  as  individuals  they  would  be  powerless  to  escape — even  though 
they  do  belong  to  a class  which  is  mistakenly  supposed  to  be  able  to  look 
out  for  itself.  When  Manhattan  became  an  island  of  tenements,  many 
who  are  classed  as  well-to-do  found  that  they  were  forced  to  live  in  tene- 
ments, and  in  such  tenements  as  were  provided  for  them,  with  gloomy, 
airless  bedrooms,  and  dark,  smelly  kitchens.  We  like  to  think  that  we 
are  free  agents,  but  as  a matter  of  fact  we  usually  take  what  is  handed 
to  us.  Our  chief  means  of  protection  is  to  make  the  handers  keep  all 
their  goods  up  to  a wholesome  standard. 

So  we  have  begun  to  realize  that  the  problem  of  getting  good  houses  is 
not  merely  a problem  of  the  poor.  It  is  not  a problem  of  any  one  class,  to 
be  solved  in  a more  or  less  superficial  way  and  then  forgotten.  It  is  a 
problem  that  affects  directly  and  vitally  the  whole  community.  Conse- 
quently it  is  essential  that  we  stop  looking  at  it  from  a purely  professional 
point  of  view  and  take  into  consideration  the  human  relationships  that 
are  involved. 

There  is  some  basis  for  the  widespread  distrust  of  the  professional  man. 
Experience  seems  to  show  that  our  custom  of  putting  an  amateur  to  boss 
a professional  has  its  practical  benefits.  For  if  we  give  the  professional 
all  the  rope  he  wants  he  is  apt  to  hitch  it  to  his  own  particular  professional 
star — a proceeding  sanctioned  by  high  authority — and  then  climb  clear 
out  of  sight  of  the  multitude  leaving  practical  problems  unsolved. 

There  is  the  architect  who  is  so  interested  in  his  elevations,  in  the  placing 
of  his  windows  so  that  they  will  compose  properly  when  viewed  from  the 
street,  that  he  quite  forgets  the  people  who  are  to  live  inside  the  house  and 
make  practical  use  of  the  windows.  There  is  the  builder  whose  attention 
is  concentrated  upon  the  capitalist,  who  thinks  of  houses  only  as  revenue 
producers,  entirely  ignoring  the  people  who  are  to  pay  the  revenue. 


22  The  American  Journal  of  Public  Health 

Recently  in  Boston  I met  one  of  these  builders.  He  was  very  indignant 
over  the  present  agitation  to  secure  laws  that  will  make  the  Boston  three- 
decker  less  of  a fire  hazard.  Such  legislation  will,  of  course,  decrease  the 
number  of  three-deckers  by  increasing  their  cost.  Incidentally  it  will 
probably  increase  the  number  of  two-family  and  single-family  houses. 
This  to  him  seemed  a wanton  injury  to  the  small  investor.  He  cited  the 
instance  of  a man  for  whom  he  is  building  a three-decker.  This  man  was 
just  able,  under  present  conditions,  to  get  enough  capital  for  his  enter- 
prise. When  it  is  finished  he  will  have  an  apartment  for  himself  and  two 
to  rent,  so  getting  a good  return  on  his  investment.  If  the  proposed  law 
were  enacted  the  man  would  have  to  be  content  with  a two-family  house. 
This,  the  builder  thought,  an  unjustifiable  invasion  of  the  man’s  right  to 
do  as  he  would  with  his  capital. 

“Why, ” he  explained,  “I  live  on  the  third  floor  of  a three-decker  myself. 
I prefer  it  because  I get  better  light  and  air  up  there.” 

Not  until  after  he  had  said  it  did  he  realize  that  for  every  third-floor 
family  there  are  two  deprived  of  the  light  and  air  shut  off  by  the  third- 
floor  apartment. 

The  health  officer,  the  sanitarian  and  other  scientists  who  serve  the 
community  are,  perhaps,  not  subject  to  such  comments  as  this,  except  when 
they  are  compelled  to  submit  to  political  pressure.  Their  professional 
interests  are  more  impersonal,  they  are  not  so  greatly  tempted  to  serve  one 
class  at  the  expense  of  another.  But  assuming  this,  can  they  do  their  full 
duty  if  they  approach  their  work  only  from  the  professional  stand- 
point? Is  there  not  danger  that  the  interest  of  professional  problems, 
detailed  technical  problems,  will  blind  them  to  larger  human  problems 
in  the  solution  of  which  they  can  and  should,  by  virtue  of  their  offices, 
exert  a great  influence? 

This  is  the  day  of  the  specialist,  and  because  of  the  specialist  we  have 
made  great  advances.  But  also,  because  the  specialist  has  tended  to  con- 
fine himself  to  his  speciality,  we  have  suffered  some  serious  losses.  The 
friendly,  human  attitude  of  the  old-fashioned  family  physician  was  an 
asset  that  balanced  a good  deal  of  liability  in  the  way  of  lack  of  technical 
knowledge.  His  title  of  “family  doctor”  is  the  key  to  much  of  his  success. 
To  him  the  world  was  not  what  it  is  coming  to  be  in  this  age  of  obstetricians 
and  baby  specialists,  when  each  process  is  presided  over  by  a different  man, 
a world  of  individuals.  It  was  a world  of  families.  This  leaves  a place 
to  be  filled,  and  by  whom  can  it  be  better  filled  than  by  you  whose  interest 
is  in  the  well-being  of  the  whole  community? 

Yet  as  one  reads  over  the  titles  of  the  papers  submitted  to  this  conference 
he  feels  that  the  community  doctors  cannot  have  fully  realized  the  oppor- 
tunity open  to  them.  Here  we  have  learned  discussions  on  a multitude  of 
technical  details,  but  all  treating  mankind  as  an  unrelated  mass  of  indi- 


What  Good  Housing  Means 


23 


viduals.  And  this  though  we  all  know  that  the  community  is  not  com- 
posed of  so  many  thousand  population  except  in  the  census  returns  and  in 
the  dreams  of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce.  It,  or  the  only  really  important 
part  of  it,  the  part  that  brought  us  up  from  savagery,  the  part  that  carries 
our  hope  of  a better  civilization  in  the  future,  the  part  that  holds  us  safe 
and  secure  in  the  present,  is  composed  of  families,  of  households. 

It  is  important  that  we  have  a pure  water  supply,  that  we  dispose  of  our 
garbage  and  rubbish  in  a sanitary  manner,  that  the  milk  for  the  babies  be 
clean  and  nourishing.  And  it  is  important  that  we  learn  from  each  other 
the  latest  and  most  scientific  methods  of  bringing  all  these  good  things 
about.  For  it  is  important  that  we  keep  what  we  have.  But  it  is  not  less 
important  that  we  be  able  to  get  more  than  we  have  at  present.  It  is  a 
rule  of  life  that  we  must  either  advance  or  retreat,  we  cannot  stand  still. 
And  to  get  more  we  must  make  the  conditions  such  as  will  encourage  pro- 
duction,, not  merely  miserly  safeguarding.  This  means  we  must  give 
attention  to  the  family  as  the  unit  of  society  rather  than  concentrate  our 
attention  upon  individuals. 

We  deal  much  in  assumptions,  necessarily,  having  only  three  score  years 
and  ten  in  which  to  reach  our  conclusions.  But  occasionally  it  is  necessary 
to  take  up  an  old  assumption  and  examine  it.  Most  of  our  cities  assumed 
until  two  or  three  years  ago  that  they  were  cities  of  homes.  Now  they  are 
examining  that  assumption  and  they  find  it  needs  revision.  We  have 
assumed — in  spite  of  talk  about  easy  divorce  and  the  advisability  of  requir- 
ing a physical  examination  before  marriage — that  the  American  family 
was  getting  along  famously.  Is  it?  Are  there  not  developing  in  our 
cities  conditions  that  threaten  the  American  family  more  than  do  easy 
divorce  and  venereal  diseases?  May  it  not  even  be  that  these  conditions 
have  something  to  do  with  the  increase  of  divorce  and  the  prevalence  of 
venereal  disease?  The  specialists  in  these  two  epidemics  get  an  occasional 
glimpse  at  their  causes.  But  are  not  you,  who  are  so  interested  in  keeping 
down  the  death  rate,  really  in  a better  position  than  others  to  learn  what 
keeps  down  the  birth  rate?  And  being  in  such  a position  should  you  not 
take  advantage  of  it,  and,  having  learned,  use  all  your  influence  to  prevent 
or  to  remove  the  causes? 

Of  course  I am  somewhat  subject  to  the  limitations  of  the  specialist 
myself.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  my  specialty  throws  at  least  a side-light 
on  the  problem.  There  is,  I believe,  as  direct  a connection  between  the 
kind  of  house  a family  lives  in  and  the  vitality  of  its  family  life  as  there  is 
between  a windowless  bedroom  and  the  physical  condition  of  the  individual 
who  sleeps  in  that  bedroom.  Sociologists  have  begun  to  show  a consider- 
able interest  in  the  effect  of  the  house  upon  the  family.  Dr.  Charles  W. 
Eliot,  president  emeritus  of  Harvard,  said: 

“Bad  housing  is  the  fundamental  evil  in  all  cities,  for  it  develops  many 


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The  American  Journal  of  Public  Health 


physical  and  moral  evils.  It  is  the  main  problem  not  only  of  large  cities 
like  Brooklyn,  but  of  small  cities  like  Cambridge.  At  this  moment  in 
Cambridge,  three-family  houses  are  being  rapidly  erected  with  not  more 
land  about  them  than  is  sufficient  for  passage  on  foot;  and  they  are  mostly 
of  flimsy  construction  in  wood.  The  rent  of  a flat  in  these  houses  is  higher 
than  that  of  an  independent  house  with  a garden  was  in  Cambridge  thirty 
years  ago.  This  kind  of  dwelling  obliges  its  occupants  to  have  almost  all 
their  recreation  outside  the  dwelling,  in  the  streets,  theatres,  saloons,  and 
other  public  places.  An  immense  change  in  family  life  is  consequently 
going  on  in  all  our  urban  population.” 

Observers  in  New  York  and  in  Philadelphia  have  noted  that  the  small 
house  of  Philadelphia  encourages  a neighborliness  that  forms  the  basis  of 
wholesome  social  relations  between  families,  which  is  conspicuously  lacking 
in  tenement-house  New  York.  Tenement  parents  and  children  make  their 
friends  as  individuals  not  as  members  of  families,  and  their  companionship 
and  amusement  are  sought  on  the  street,  not  in  the  home.  As  the  number 
of  rooms  grows  smaller,  as  the  size  of  the  rooms  diminishes,  which  they 
inevitably  do  in  barracks  construction,  friends  are  crowded  out,  additions 
to  the  family  crowded  back.  The  very  type  of  building  tends  to  discourage 
any  natural  instinct  for  having  children.  In  the  apartment  they  are  con- 
stantly under  foot,  in  the  halls  they  are  a nuisance  to  neighbors  who  are 
neighbors  by  proximity  only,  on  the  street  they  choose  their  companions 
from  a whole  city  full  without  let  or  guidance.  The  apartment  is  not  in 
any  sense  a home,  except  in  the  primary  one  that  it  offers  shelter  from  the 
elements.  And  in  that  it  is  better  only  in  degree  than  the  cave  which 
sheltered  our  remote  ancestors.  All  the  customs  and  the  sentiments  that 
have  grown  up  around  the  home  since  we  began  to  build  houses  must  be 
cast  aside  if  we  again  seek  refuge  in  cliff  dwellings.  And  with  the  going 
of  the  home  will  go  the  old  conception  of  the  family. 

I have  a great  faith  in  statistics.  It  began  when  I believed  implicitly 
in  a single  statistic  that  I had  dug  out  for  myself.  It  persists  now  when  I 
wait  for  the  returns  of  the  United  States  census — and  sometimes  find  the 
waiting  long.  It  leads  me  to  seize  with  avidity  upon  such  a statistical 
discovery  as  that  of  Dr.  Walter  F.  Willcox  of  Cornell,  that  single  men  die 
more  readily  than  married  ones.  For  that  is  as  it  should  be.  It  makes 
interesting  the  pages  of  long  reports  on  hookworm  which  show  the  close 
connection  between  a certain  phase  of  bad  housing  and  disease.  And  it 
shows  an  underlying  cause  of  the  decreasing  birth  rate  that  at  present  is 
so  alarming  Germany,  as  France  has  been  alarmed  for  more  than  a genera- 
tion. 

In  Germany  the  professors  of  preventive  medicine  have  scored  many 
victories.  As  a result  the  death  rate  has  fallen, steadily.  But  like  those 
of  France  they  have  failed  to  keep  up  the  birth  rate.  Especially  in  the 


What  Good  Housing  Means 


25 

larger  cities,  which  like  New  York  and  Paris  .are  cities  of  tenements,  is  the 
decrease  notable.  Statistics  show  that  in  Berlin  the  proportion  of  childless 
couples  is  increasing  and  that  the  two-child  limit  is  becoming  the  normal 
thing.  And  this  just  at  a time  when  we  had  begun  to  hope  that  we  could 
make  our  cities  self-perpetuating.  No  longer  were  we  to  admit  with 
humiliation  that  the  city,  which  is  the  center  of  civilization,  destroys  those 
who  make  it  glorious.  We  prophesied  that  the  time  was  at  hand  when 
the  city  would  be  so  sanitary  that  no  longer  would  it  be  necessary  to  draw 
upon  the  country  for  raw  recruits  to  take  the  places  of  vanished  city  fam- 
ilies. And  just  as  we  were  about  to  proclaim  our  triumph,  we  find  that  the 
fight  is  still  far  from  won. 

We  have  done  great  things,  and  in  the  doing  of  them  have  created  a new 
profession,  that  of  preventive  medicine.  Since  the  days  when  the  physi- 
cian was  content  to  cure  those  already  sick  to  these  days  when  the  physician, 
whatever  his  technical  titles,  labors  to  keep  men  from  becoming  sick,  we 
have  advanced  far.  But  perhaps  the  time  has  now  come  when  we  must 
create  another  profession,  that  of  “constructive  medicine.,,  Its  field  may 
be  even  larger  than  the  field  of  preventive  medicine,  the  multitude  of  its 
practitioners  divided  into  a greater  number  of  groups  than  those  who  now 
guard  our  food,  our  water,  our  air  and  our  neighbors  from  infection  and 
contagion.  And  one  of  its  tasks  will  be  to  see  that  our  houses  are  adapted 
to  serve  as  family  homes.  For  that  is  what  good  housing  means. 

What  we  have  won  in  the  long  fight  to  make  our  living  conditions  more 
sanitary,  we  must  keep.  And  as  our  cities  still  have  thousands  of  window- 
less rooms,  hundred  of  thousands  of  disease-spreading  privy  vaults,  we 
must  add  much  to  what  we  have  already  won.  But  at  the  same  time  we 
must  bear  in  mind  that  a house,  even  if  it  is  superlatively  sanitary,  may  not 
be  a good  home,  and  so  be  on  the  alert  to  check  bad  types,  to  encourage 
good  types  of  houses.  Otherwise  the  day  may  come  when,  our  preventive 
work  successfully  finished,  we  shall  look  about  us  and  see  a race  that  per- 
ishes, though  without  disease. 

Then  we  may  understand  the  feelings  of  the  Mobile  darky  of  whom  I 
heard  last  winter.  He  was  about  to  be  hanged.  Before  letting  him  fall 
the  sheriff,  who  was  a tender-hearted  man,  said,  “ George,  would  you  like 
to  say  a few  last  words  befo’  I let  you  go?  ” “ Yass,  sah,  yaas  Mist.  Sheriff, 

I would  like  to  say  a few  last  words,”  replied  George,  “Ah’d  jest  lake  to 
say  that  this  curtainly  will  be  a lesson  to  me.” 


